


koushi sugawara's infinite playlist

by joshllyman



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys Will Be Boys, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Azumane Asahi, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Sugawara Koushi, Other, Polyamory, Songfic, Sort Of, gratuitous references to disney, in like the best way possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24029440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshllyman/pseuds/joshllyman
Summary: Ace Asa is a popular disc jockey for their college's radio station, and as such they field some bizarre requests. For example: lately they've had repeated requests for love songs from a mysterious Suga to their "good friend," Mr. Honeybuns.Asahi Azumane is just trying to make it through their junior year without chucking something at their philosophy professor. Fortunately, they've made two new friends: Koushi, an ed major with a similar penchant for postponing gen eds, and Daichi, a friend of a friend who's interested in Asahi's position at the radio station.Asahi has no idea how their worlds are about to collide.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi & Bokuto Koutarou, Azumane Asahi & Kuroo Tetsurou, Azumane Asahi & Terushima Yuuji, Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Terushima Yuuji
Comments: 14
Kudos: 75





	koushi sugawara's infinite playlist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awwclint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awwclint/gifts).



> The title is a play on Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, which is not a movie I've ever seen or Googled. This is not an AU of that movie, I just like the title.  
> Charlie, I really hope you enjoy your gift!  
> You'll want the playlist to go along with this fic: [ koushi sugawara's infinite playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0vtO4KZiAXJ8wD9B15ekrt?si=h1jW9ud1RJCGhVER7pDbLQ)  
> *  
> Now with [art](https://joshllyman.tumblr.com/post/622005526090383360/catastrafey-some-fanart-for-this-wonderful-fic) by the incredible and wonderful Cat, who's linked in the end notes! Thank you so much, Cat, I truly do not deserve you <3

“I’ve got one last request to play before I head out tonight. You’ll have Black Cat in just after me for a late night shift. This one goes out to Mr. Honeybuns, from your good friend Suga. You’ve got a classic tonight, Mr. Honeybuns. This is Queen’s ‘Somebody to Love.’”

The first notes sound through Asahi’s headphones, and they switch off their mic with a quiet sigh. This is the third night this week the mysterious Suga has called in with a request to dedicate to their lover. They’d love to know what exactly this guy is doing to please Suga—scratch that. They don’t want to know.

They take their headphones off and set them on the desk in front of them. The studio is filled with aging equipment from the days before modern technology, and most of the desk is taken up by a device that Asahi has used exactly once, directly after the lesson teaching them how to use it. Since then they’ve ignored it entirely in favor of the studio laptop, perched up on a stand and permanently plugged in. The back wall is filled entirely with old cds. Asahi turns their chair around to contemplate them and wonders how awful a Jenga game involving those stacks would be.

There’s a series of three rapid knocks on the door, and Asahi turns around to see Tetsurou grinning madly through the glass. They gesture for him to enter.

“You look grumpy, Asahi,” Tetsurou observes, shutting the door carefully behind himself. It tends to slam if it’s not gently guided into place.

“Just tired,” Asahi admits. “I still have to study for three finals. You nearly done?”

“Two more tomorrow,” Tetsurou answers. “And then Yuuji and I are headed to Kou’s for the holiday. You going home?”

“Nah.” Asahi stands and stretches their arms over their head. “Getting paid double to stay and work the station over the break.”

Tetsurou frowns as they maneuver around each other so he can take over Asahi’s spot. “Do you not celebrate Christmas?”

Asahi shrugs. “I did when I was a kid. But the uh, family’s not exactly supportive, you know.”

“Ah.” Tetsurou takes a seat and lifts the headphones to his ears. “Did you do an oldies night or something?”

“It’s that guy,” Asahi answers. They sling their bag over their back. “That Suga, the one making requests for their ridiculously nicknamed Mr. Honeybuns? They’ve been calling in for weeks.”

Tetsurou laughs. “Yeah, I remember them. Weird guy. I’ll see you after the break, Asahi. Take care.”

“See you.” 

Asahi slips their own headphones into their ears on their way out of the communications building. Their younger self couldn’t have imagined ever being the sort of person who talks for a living, but then, their younger self couldn’t have imagined not going home for Christmas, either. And they enjoy their time in the station. Most of the callers to their show are college kids like themself, and Asahi never limits themself to one particular genre, so they like to think they make a lot of people a little more content with what they do. 

And if that’s not worth something, Asahi isn’t sure what is.

\---

The three weeks of break pass quietly. Asahi works at the station most nights, and there are next to no callers since most students went home for break. Not even the mysterious Suga calls, so Asahi decides whoever they are, they’re probably a student like Asahi themself. 

Their shift doesn’t change with the new semester, which is nice. Asahi likes having a constant in their routine, and the three hours they spend in front of the mic most nights are a nice anchor when the rest of their schedule is completely different. Most of their classes this semester are for their major, but there are two non-communications classes they have to finish. Worst of all, they have an eight a.m. gen ed philosophy class.

Asahi drags themself into class the first Monday of the semester, a huge tumbler of coffee held firmly in their hands. They pick a seat near the back and try not to fall asleep waiting for the professor.

The person who takes the seat to their right catches their eye. They’ve got light, silvery hair, and out of the corner of their eye Asahi can see a birthmark under their eye. They’re also in a hilariously oversized sweatshirt and pants that Asahi is pretty certain originally belonged to a pajama set. They nod at Asahi before dropping into their seat and letting their head rest on their arms.

“Welcome to philosophy,” says the professor a moment later, and Asahi turns their attention to the front. “And may I say, philosophy welcomes you. Philosophy is an art, and I encourage you all to think hard about the definition of art while you’re in this room.”

Oh, gods. Eight o’clocks are torture even when taking an interesting class. Asahi opens their text messages with Koutarou.

_ How the fuck do you do this all the time?? Two minutes and I already wanna run screaming from this classroom _

“Asahi Azumane!” calls the professor, and Asahi nearly jumps out of their seat.

“Sorry,” Asahi says, and there are a few chitters of laughter around the room. Asahi burns bright red. 

“He wants your major,” the pajama-clad stranger says, and Asahi sighs.

“I’m a communications major.”

The professor studies them for a moment. “And what is your goal, young man?”

Asahi cringes. “I’m, uh. I use they/them pronouns. And I want to go into radio.”

The professor frowns. “I meant your personal goal, boy. What do you want your life to  _ be _ ?”

“Over,” hisses their pajama friend.

Asahi stifles their laugh and manages to answer, “Still...not a boy. Um. I guess I just want to be happy? And make other people happy?”

The professor claps his hands together and releases one booming laugh. “Ah! So you’re a hedonist! Fascinating, my boy.”

“I’m not—”

“Jeffery Bloom?” the professor calls, and Asahi sinks into their seat.

“The fuck is this guy’s problem?” the person next to Asahi says, loud enough so only Asahi can hear them. They lift their head and look at Asahi. “You corrected him like three times. Is he a pig on purpose or is he stupid?”

“It’s usually a toss-up,” Asahi sighs. “It doesn’t matter that much, I guess.”

“It does.” The stranger grits their teeth. “No one deserves to be treated like that.”

Asahi blinks. “Um, I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You—you didn’t?” they say. They furrow their brows. “He’s the asshole, not you. Although you should probably stand up for yourself a little more.”

Asahi flusters. “Sorry, again.”

They treat him to a smile. “You’re a strange bird, Asahi.”

“I...actually really hate birds,” Asahi admits. 

Their classmate hides their burst of laughter behind their hand. “Koushi Sugawara,” they say after they’ve recovered. “I use they/them pronouns, too, although I assure you I would have been righteously indignant even if I didn’t.”

“Nice to meet you,” Asahi says, although something nags at the back of their mind, makes them wonder if they’ve met before, even though they didn’t recognize them until they said their name. “What brings you to this particular hell?”

“Gen ed,” Koushi says. “I’m an early childhood education major. I’ve been putting this off for three years now. Can’t put it off anymore because next year will be full of fields, you know?” 

“Right,” Asahi says, although they’re not quite sure what Koushi’s talking about. “I’m a communications major. I have also been putting this off for three years.”

“Same hat!” Koushi exclaims, and they offer Asahi a fist bump.

Asahi meets it with a smile, and their phone buzzes in their lap.

_ gets easier, _ says Koutarou.  _ just make up some bs and ull b fine _

“Koushi Sugawara,” the professor calls, and again that name gets under Asahi’s skin. They have to have heard it somewhere before…

Koushi stands and crosses their arms over their chest. “I also use they/them pronouns, and if you call me a boy I’ll email your department head and tell them you’re discriminating against me,” Koushi says, and the classroom goes dead quiet. “I’m an early childhood education major, and what I want from my life is justice for minorities, the end of capitalism, and some goddamn respect, if you please.”

Koushi sits heavily, and a kid in the third row claps three times before realizing no one else is joining in and stopping.

“Well,” says the professor, clearly flustered. “If it’s justice you’re interested in, Plato and Aristotle will hold many wonders for you, I suspect.”

“I don’t,” Koushi answers.

They stare the professor down. He coughs and looks away. “Amanda Syke-Denver.”

Asahi looks over at Koushi, whose head is held high when they turn back to Asahi.

“Pig, then,” Asahi says, and Koushi flashes them a grin.

“Definitely a pig.”

Asahi nods, glad that at least if they have to suffer through hell, they’ll be suffering with someone else.

\---

Asahi’s gotten through most of their shift with no callers, which isn’t all that surprising considering it’s the first day of the new semester. Most kids are probably catching up with their friends and significant others after the break. Asahi doesn’t have a huge group of people they hang with. Tetsurou’s a friend, at first only by proximity and then by choice as they grew closer. And it’s hard to be friends with Tetsurou and not be friends with his partners, Koutarou and Yuuji. Otherwise, they tend to veer away from close relationships, and most everyone they meet seems fine with that.

When the phone rings, Asahi startles. They fumble with the receiver and only narrowly avoid dropping it. “WCNY radio station, this is Ace Asa, what can I put on for you?”

“I’ve got another one for Mr. Honeybuns,” the voice answers.

Asahi shakes their head. “What can I do for you tonight, Suga?”

“I’m feeling an acoustic jam tonight, Ace,” Suga says. “How about ‘You and I’ by Ingrid Michaelson?”

“Sure,” Asahi agrees. “And do you have a message you’d like me to deliver to Mr. Honeybuns for you this evening?”

“Tell him I’m glad he’s back safe, and his parents can fuck off all the way to hell.”

Asahi chokes on a breath, coughing and sputtering until they can get their hands on their water bottle. They take a quick sip and wipe their mouth with the back of their hand. “Jesus, alright,” they manage. “I can’t say fuck on the radio or I’ll get kicked, but uh. I’ll let him know.”

“Thanks, Ace. I appreciate it.”

“Have a good night, Suga.”

“You, too.”

Asahi sets the receiver down and lifts a headphone to their ear. They’ve got about forty-five seconds, which is just enough time to get the song queued up and take a quick breather before they go back on. They wonder what Mr. Honeybuns’ parents must have done over the break to earn such a harsh sentiment from Suga, but they can’t linger on it long. They throw the headphones back on and clench their fist tightly to focus.

“Good evening again, Syracuse,” Asahi says into the mic. “Our friend Suga is back from break, and they have another message for the infamous Mr. Honeybuns. Mr. Honeybuns, Suga is glad you’re back from break, and they said, uh.” Asahi pauses, trying to think quickly. “Well, they had some strong words for your parents, let’s put it that way.” They laugh quietly, a nervous habit they’ve picked up to fill empty space in their broadcasts. They release the tension from their hand. “Your song tonight is ‘You and I’ by Ingrid Michaelson, and I hope you enjoy it.”

Asahi flips off the mic as the song begins and breathes out a sigh of relief. Their phone buzzes in their pocket. They roll their eyes at seeing that it’s Tetsurou’s name on their screen.

_ Teru says nice save _ .

Asahi flips through until they find the middle finger emoji and sends only that in response. 

‘Teru says,’ their left asscheek.

\---

The January cold bites through Asahi’s bones as they hustle to the cafeteria. Even their coat, scarf, and hat can’t hide them from the stinging wind. Go to college in New York, their parents had said. It’ll be fun, they said. Where’s your fingers, Asahi?, they asked.

As if their family would care if they were missing limbs. 

They finally make it into the building and step inside, shivering as they unwrap themself from their various winter wear. They tug their earbuds from their ears and shove them into their pocket as they head in the direction of the scent of food. Their stomach growls, and Asahi looks down at it in mild surprise.

“Are you Ace Asa?” a voice behind them asks, accompanied suddenly by a hand on their shoulder.

“I usually go by Asahi off the air,” Asahi says. “Sorry, um. Who are you?”

“Daichi Sawamura,” the owner of the voice says. Asahi takes a moment to look at him. He’s got a strong jawline, dark hair, and eyes that Asahi thinks they could probably lose themself in if they tried. They blink quickly to avoid that particular pitfall. “I went to high school with Koutarou, so when he mentioned he knew you…”

Asahi blinks, not quite sure what Daichi’s getting at. “Are you...a fan?” Asahi asks, feeling mystified.

“Uh, no. Sorry, yes. I mean.” Daichi takes a breath and slaps both his hands to his cheeks. The long drag of skin against skin seems to refresh him, even if it leaves Asahi more bewildered. His face is reddened now, but he smiles easily. “I was wondering if you knew who Mr. Honeybuns is.”

Asahi has to double check that they’ve heard right. Daichi continues to watch them, probably waiting for an answer Asahi doesn’t have. They shake their head quickly to clear their thoughts.

“Sorry, no,” Asahi says. Daichi’s face falls. “Suga’s only ever referred to them by the nickname.”

Daichi sighs. “Right, okay. Thanks anyway.”

Asahi frowns. Daichi looks miserable with this new information, as if Asahi had dashed the last bit of hope he had. “Do you...wanna get lunch with me though?” Asahi points their thumb toward the cafeteria. “I’ll buy.”

Daichi’s lips quirk upward. “I don’t think they’ll let you scan through twice, but I appreciate the gesture. I was headed that way anyway.”

“Alright,” agrees Asahi. 

It’s a little awkward, walking with this person who only knows them by their radio personality and their friendship with their friend’s boyfriend, planning to have lunch with him. But Asahi truly feels awful. He seems really nice, and it’s hard to pine for someone like he’s clearly pining for Suga.

They split off for a bit in the cafeteria. Asahi heads for the salad bar and puts together their lunch, grabbing a glass of apple juice on their way. They meet Daichi at a booth in the corner.

“So you said you went to high school with Koutarou?” they question as they sit. Daichi perks up.

“Yeah! I just transferred here at the beginning of the year, but I’ve known Kou forever. It was nice to have a friend coming in, you know?”

“Mmhmm.” Asahi pours a packet of dressing over their salad and closes the container, shaking it for a moment to distribute the liquid. “So you know Tetsurou and Yuuji, too, then.”

“Not very well yet,” Daichi admits. “We haven’t gotten to spend as much time together as I’d want. They seem cool, though, and Koutarou seems really happy.”

“Those three are the only people I know who’ve been together since freshman year and haven’t had an ounce of drama,” Asahi says. “They’re wild, but together they’re really sweet.”

They open up the container again and begin to pick out the cucumbers. Daichi stops talking and watches Asahi carefully dig through the salad.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” he says after a moment. “You put that salad together, right?”

“At the bar, yeah,” agrees Asahi. They pull another cucumber slice out of the container.

“So...if you don’t like cucumbers, why did you put them in the salad?”

Asahi turns their head away and blushes. “It’s, uh, not that I don’t like cucumbers? I really like the taste, I just don’t like the texture. So I let them sit in there for a few minutes so the flavor gets on the lettuce and then I pick them out. Sorry, I know it’s weird.”

Daichi is silent, and Asahi risks a look at him. He doesn’t look weirded out or judgmental at all. He smiles easily.

“Can I steal those, then?” he asks, pointing out the carefully stacked slices.

“Oh! Sure, go ahead.”

Daichi reaches over and skewers the pile with a knife. He picks the top slice off and shoves it into his mouth thoughtfully.

“Raspberry vinaigrette?” he questions.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Good choice.” He smiles again and takes another slice of cucumber. “So you said you’re a communications major?”

“Hm? Yeah.” Asahi takes a bite of salad. “I’m pretty shy off the radio, to be honest, but it’s nice to pretend to be social while I’m broadcasting.”

Daichi tilts his head. “You seem perfectly social right now.”

Asahi blushes. “Well, you sort of took me off guard. Most people don’t put together the fact that I’m the radio person.”

“I wonder why that is,” Daichi muses. He taps his chin thoughtfully with the cucumber skewer, leaving a smear of dressing across his skin. “Your voice is recognizable enough. It’s really deep and clear. Definitely a made-for-radio voice.”

Asahi continues to resemble a tomato, but curiously, Daichi’s face reddens, too. Asahi chalks it up to embarrassment about the dressing as he wipes himself off with a napkin.

“So what’s your major?” Asahi questions.

“Social studies education,” Daichi answers. “And before you ask, we’re not all as dull as we seem.”

Asahi laughs, and Daichi gives them a warm smile with his eyes sparkling. 

“You don’t seem dull to me at all,” Asahi says.

Daichi takes another cucumber off the knife and crunches on it. “You seem pretty interesting yourself, Asahi. You usually get lunch around this time?”

“Every day but Thursday,” Asahi answers.

Daichi nods. “It wouldn’t be so bad if we ate lunch together, hm?”

Asahi ducks their head. “No. Not at all.”

\---

Koushi drops heavily into the seat beside Asahi ten minutes after their philosophy lecture starts. They’ve shoved a beanie over their head and there are heavyset bags under their eyes.

“Little early in the semester for the walking dead look,” Asahi comments lightly. 

Koushi grins at them. “Hung out with a friend way too late last night. He’s one of those people you lose track of time with, you know?”

Asahi doesn’t know, but that seems irrelevant in this context. Koushi pulls their laptop out.

“So what did I miss?” they question.

Asahi raises an eyebrow. “Same shit, different day,” they answer honestly. “I genuinely have heard about three words he’s said so far.”

Koushi giggles quietly, smothering it with a hand. “You know, you’re really not much like you seem.”

Asahi eyes them. “How so?”

“I would have pegged you for a straight laced type,” they answer. They lean their head on a hand as they observe Asahi. “I mean, you’ve got the long hair and the beard, but otherwise you’re pretty clean cut. You’re pretty chill, is what I mean.”

Asahi blushes. “I think there was a compliment in there, so thank you.”

Koushi reaches over and punches Asahi lightly on the arm. “You’re welcome.”

“Boys—I mean, people in the back!” says the professor.

Asahi looks guiltily in the professor’s direction. His face is red.

“Some respect, if you please!”

“Sorry,” Asahi pipes up.

“Oh, fuck off,” Koushi says under their breath as the professor goes back to his lecture. Asahi stifles their giggle, but only just. They listen for a moment, but then Koushi’s poking their bicep.

“Is that the Discord icon I see?” they hiss.

Asahi nods.

They produce a scrap of paper and scribble on it before passing it over. 

_ sugasuga#3185 _

Asahi stares down at the scrap.

Sugawara. Suga.  _ That’s _ how they knew the name.

_ This _ is who Daichi is crushing on.

(The world of liberal arts college is entirely too small).

Koushi narrows their eyes and indicates the icon on the screen. Asahi pulls it up and adds them quickly to their friend list.

_ aceasa:  _ You’re Suga?! From the radio?!

_ sugasuga:  _ surprised you listen to it lol

_ sugasuga:  _ wait...you’re ace asa??

_ aceasa: _ Yes!

_ sugasuga:  _ omg

_ sugasuga: _ i can’t believe this lmao

_ aceasa:  _ You’ve been calling me for months!

_ aceasa: _ I thought your name sounded familiar but I couldn’t figure out why!

_ sugasuga:  _ lolol same

_ sugasuga:  _ where did the nickname come from, anyway? are you asexual?

_ sugasuga:  _ if you don’t mind my asking fjdkasl;

_ aceasa:  _ Demi. I played volleyball in high school, wing spiker.

_ sugasuga:  _ oh! my friend daichi played too!

_ aceasa: _ Daichi Sawamura?

_ sugasuga:  _ you know him??

Asahi twists uncomfortably in their seat. They don’t want to tell Koushi the real reason they know Daichi is because he’d asked after them. They go with an alternate answer: not a lie, but not quite the truth.

_ aceasa: _ He’s friends with a friend of mine, we’ve seen each other around a few times. He’s never mentioned volleyball before. 

_ sugasuga:  _ this is crazy lol

_ sugasuga:  _ we’ll have to hang out!! idk how well you know him but he’s great! that’s who i was with last night

Asahi’s in the process of answering when a new message appears.

_ sugasuga has added you to a group message: sugasuga, sawafair _

_ sugasuga:  _ daichi you’ve been holding out on me!! 

_ aceasa: _ To be fair, we only met for the first time last week.

_ sugasuga:  _ still! he knows i’ve been calling in to your show, he’s with me half the time i call lol

Daichi hadn’t mentioned that. Asahi quickly changes the subject.

_ aceasa:  _ So...what on earth does your handle mean, Daichi?

_ sugasuga:  _ oh, please tell him.

_ sawafair:  _ oh, hi, Asahi

_ sawafair:  _ didn’t know you had discord

A direct message comes in from Daichi.

_ sawafair:  _ you know Koushi??

_ aceasa:  _ I just found out they were Suga! We have a class together!

_ sawafair:  _ oh, ok

Back in the group message, Daichi pings again.

_ sawafair: _ so...you know the movie oliver & company?

\---

“So Koushi, huh?” 

Daichi looks up from his lunch later that day. There’s a blush burning bright on his cheeks. “Yeah. We, uh. Met in an education class last semester.” 

“Getting cozy in class?” Asahi teases.

Daichi lets out a squawk. “Asahi!”

Asahi bursts into laughter while Daichi tries to hide his face. By the time they’re calmed down, they’ve caught the attention of several people around them.

“You’re hanging out with Koushi too much,” Daichi hisses as the students around them go back to lunch.

“I’ve got an eight a.m. with them,” Asahi points out. “It’s life or death in there.”

Daichi hums agreeably. “We got assigned to do a project together. I was intimidated because Koushi always seemed so...untouchable.”

“I get that,” Asahi agrees, thinking of the way Koushi had introduced themself in philosophy. If they hadn’t been chatting prior to that intro, Asahi doesn’t think they would have managed to be friends.

“But, uh. We met at the library this one time, and it was early in the fall, and...I remember the leaves falling down around them as Koushi looked up at me across the quad, and the smile on their face…”

Daichi trails off. Asahi picks the cucumbers out of their salad and heaps them onto the side of Daichi’s plate.

“Jesus, I sound ridiculous,” Daichi says with a sigh. 

Asahi shrugs. “I’ve heard worse. You ever heard Koutarou go on about Yuuji or Tetsurou?”

“Once or twice,” Daichi agrees with a smile. “Lovesick bastard.”

“He’s got it good,” Asahi says. “So do you have any idea who Mr. Honeybuns might be?”

Daichi rolls his eyes. “There’s another guy in early childhood Koushi hangs out with sometimes. He’s cute, I guess. It’s probably him.”

“What’s so special about him?” Asahi questions.

“I mean, I don’t know,” Daichi says. He takes a bite of his bagel and chews it with his brows furrowed thoughtfully. “I’ve seen him and Koushi be close. Koushi blushes sometimes when he’s around. They’re always touchy-feely.”

Asahi nods. “They’re not touchy-feely with you?”

Daichi frowns. “I mean...it’s not the same, really. They are touchy with me. I don’t know.”

“They blush around you?”

“Not really? Maybe sometimes?” Daichi waves a hand. “It’s not me, is the point. Now stop giving me the third degree and eat your weird cucumber-flavored cucumberless salad.”

Asahi laughs and takes a bite of their salad, wielding lettuce in the air to prove their point. “So what do you do when you’re not reciting the Constitution?”

Daichi’s resulting laugh is big and billowing. “You seem so serious, Asahi, but underneath that exterior you’re a sarcastic shit just like Koushi.”

“Birds of a feather, I suppose.”

“Aren’t you afraid of birds?”

“Dinosaurs of a feather, then.”

Daichi laughs. “I play a lot of Nintendo-based video games.  _ Twilight Princess _ is the best Zelda game and no amount of arguing will sway me.”

Asahi holds up their hands. “I have no intention of swaying you. I’ve played about an hour of  _ Breath of the Wild _ and that’s it.”

“Not a video game person?”

“I like  _ Mario Party _ when I’m forced into it.”

Daichi grins. “So what are you into?”

“Music,” Asahi says. 

“You play?”

“A bit of guitar, and very poorly at that,” Asahi admits. “I just...there’s something about finding a song that speaks to you, you know? Finding something where the lyrics resonate with all the feelings you hold inside, and you think the writer must have been reading your mind when they wrote it because there’s no other way they could have possibly known…”

Asahi realizes they’ve been rambling, and they duck their head and stuff some salad into their mouth.

“Sorry,” they murmur around the lettuce.

Daichi shakes his head. “No, no, it was great. It’s really cool that you’re so passionate about something, Asahi. You shouldn’t be ashamed of that.”

Asahi bites their lip. “You think so?”

“I do. Whoever said it’s not cool to care about shit was wrong, you know? It’s cool. It’s very cool.  _ You’re _ very cool.”

Asahi watches as Daichi lines his bagel with Asahi’s discarded vegetables and takes a bite. 

“You’re pretty cool yourself, Daichi,” Asahi says, and Daichi grins at him around a mouthful of cucumber.

\---

“Asahi!”

“Hey, Koushi,” Asahi says into the phone. Their usual greeting is now a shout of Asahi’s name, and Asahi would be lying if they said it wasn’t a delightful way to break up their shifts. “What can I put on for you tonight?”

“You ever have those nights where you really feel like shaking your ass?” Koushi asks.

Asahi laughs once. “I can’t say I do, Koushi. I’m not much of a dancer.”

“We’ll have to work on that. How about Janelle Monae, Asahi? ‘Make Me Feel’ would be great.”

“Any messages?”

“Tell Mr. Honeybuns I’d like to dance with him, someday.”

“How are you gonna do that if you’re not gonna tell him who you are?”

Asahi can picture the smile on Koushi’s face, cunning and slight, in the pause before their words. “I can’t have all the fun, can I? He’s gotta put some work in, too.”

Asahi sighs. “Whatever you say, Koushi. I’ve gotta go, I’m on.”

“Have fun!”

Asahi hangs up, setting the receiver down with a frown. Asahi has never thought of Koushi as scared, but maybe they’re just as afraid of their feelings as Daichi is of his. 

“I hope you feel like dancing tonight, Mr. Honeybuns,” Asahi says into the mic, one eye on preparing the song. “We’ve got one here that will get you up off your feet. This is Janelle Monae’s ‘Make Me Feel,’ from your friend Suga, as always, and they hope you’ll dance together someday.”

The words feel oddly hollow as they leave Asahi’s mouth, but the song starts and Asahi pushes their concern for Daichi and Koushi out of their mind. They’ve got their own problems, probably. 

\---

_ come over and do philosophy with me, i hate this, _ Koushi messages on a Tuesday night.

Asahi looks down at their own homework, half-completed and half-assed, and shrugs.  _ On my way. _

They shove their books into their backpack and layer up to face the cold. Their nose is still raw by the time they arrive at Koushi’s apartment.

Koushi takes one look at them and says, “Hot chocolate.”

“Thanks,” Asahi sighs in relief.

Asahi spreads out their homework on the table while Koushi prepares warm mugs for both of them.

“How do you feel about Kahlua?” Koushi calls from the kitchen.

Asahi looks up at them. “Positively, but aren’t we trying to do homework?”

“This isn’t enough to fuck you up unless you’re the lightest of lightweights,” Koushi answers. “Just a bit for flavor.”

Koushi carries their mugs out and sets them on the table. Asahi takes a sip, and it warms them from their toes to their fingers, pleasantly tingling with the faintest taste of alcohol.

“That’s really good,” Asahi says, and Koushi grins at them.

“Told you,” Koushi says. They punch Asahi in the bicep. “That’s what you get for not trusting me.”

“I never said—!” Asahi protests, but Koushi is grinning, and they cut themself off with arms crossed over their chest. “Asshole.”

“Mm, but you love me!” Koushi says.

Asahi only grumbles in response.

They work on their homework for a while, trading thoughts and questions until everything is mostly complete. Asahi has two questions left, and they’re trying to come up with answers that don’t sound too much like Koushi’s when Koushi throws the pen onto the table with a shout.

“Alright, that’s good enough,” Koushi decides, and they push their papers away from them. Asahi pushes out from the table and lays on their back on the floor. “We done real good today, Asahi.”

“If you say so,” Asahi says. They’re still warm from the Kahlua and Koushi’s presence at their elbow. “Hey, Koushi.”

“Yeah, Asahi?”

“What do you think about Daichi?”

Koushi looks down at Asahi, and Asahi looks up at Koushi.

“Why do you ask?” Koushi questions.

Asahi shrugs. “He’s my friend. He was telling me about how you met. Seemed sweet.”

“He  _ is _ sweet,” Koushi affirms. “One of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. He’s really genuine and honest, too, which makes it fun to fuck with him a little, but he’s always such a good sport about it.”

“And he’s hot.”

“And he’s hot,” Koushi agrees. They look down at Asahi again. “You know, I think Daichi and Yui would make a good couple,” they say thoughtfully. Asahi has to bite their lip to keep from saying anything.

“Yui?” 

“Daichi’s roommate,” Koushi answers. “I think Yui’s into him, at the very least. She’s cute.”

“So Daichi’s not Mr. Honeybuns?”

“No!” Koushi half-shouts. They glare at Asahi. “No, Jesus, it’s not Daichi.”

“I just wondered,” Asahi says mildly. “You’ve never said who it is.”

Koushi looks away and picks at their fingernails. “It’s no one you know, anyway.”

“Okay,” Asahi says agreeably. They don’t want to get any further on Koushi’s bad side. “So...you like to dance?”

“Huh? Oh, yes.” Koushi smiles. “I did classes when I was little, before my parents decided it was too girly. Then I had to do taekwondo.”

“So the ‘you could totally kick my ass’ look isn’t just for show,” Asahi answers.

“Oh, no, I could have you crying on the floor in less than thirty seconds if I wanted,” Koushi says seriously.

“I don’t doubt that,” Asahi murmurs. “With my lack of coordination I could probably have  _ myself _ crying on the floor in less than thirty seconds.”

Koushi laughs, a contagious, shiny thing, and Asahi joins in with them.

“Can’t believe with how tall you are your parents never tried to force you into sports,” Koushi observes.

Asahi frowns and turns their head to hide it. “I always felt really awkward about how big and masculine my body was, so I tried to hide it as much as possible. One of those things that should have told me I was nonbinary, you know?”

Koushi hums. “I think your body’s pretty perfect the way it is.”

Asahi blushes and is grateful they’re not looking at their friend. “Thanks, Koushi.”

“Another thing,” Koushi says. They jab their toes into Asahi’s side, and Asahi yelps. “Talk any more shit about my friend and I  _ will _ have you on the floor crying.”

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Asahi says. “I’ll only talk shit about you, then.”

Koushi screams, a battle cry, and tackles Asahi, pinning them to the floor with little effort. Asahi’s peels of laughter ring through the apartment as Koushi tickles them mercilessly.

“Uncle, uncle!” Asahi cries, and Koushi rolls off them.

“Don’t test me, Azumane,” Koushi says, poking them in the stomach for good measure, and Asahi throws their hands up.

“I’m shutting up now,” Asahi promises.

Koushi lays beside them, their hands just touching between them. Asahi sighs, content to just be together with their friend, and works on catching their breath.

\---

Koushi’s at the desk in their bedroom, working on a paper for their philosophy class that, theoretically, Asahi is also working on from their spot on the couch. In reality they’re listening to their Discover Weekly on Spotify and staring dully at the words floating in front of them. A loud buzz shocks both of them, and Asahi blinks away their weariness to look over at Koushi.

“Hey, is it okay if Daichi comes over?” Koushi asks, looking up from their phone. “He’s got some questions he thinks I can help with.”

“Sure,” Asahi agrees. 

Koushi answers Daichi’s text and closes their laptop. “Should be here in a few,” they say. “You guys are getting along well?”

“We get lunch most days,” Asahi answers. “He eats my cucumbers.”

Koushi blinks. “That’s...not a euphemism, is it?”

“Oh! N-no, I just don’t like them,” Asahi sputters.

Koushi stares at them. “Are you...into him?”

“No!” Asahi exclaims. “Koushi, what on earth?”

Koushi looks at them for a long second before a smile breaks out over their face. “You’re easy to tease, Asahi,” they say. “It’s one of the things I like best about you.”

Asahi frowns as Koushi walks past them, ruffling their hair in the process. “I’m gonna get a snack, you want anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Asahi says.

Koushi pauses, their hand still in Asahi’s hair, and looks down at them for a long moment. The smile falls off their face.

“Koushi?” Asahi questions.

They pull their hand away, and their lips turn up again. “Nevermind. Was thinking about something Daichi said the other week. It’s not important.”

Koushi walks away, not letting Asahi question them, and Asahi sighs and stares at their essay hopelessly.

Asahi’s closest to the door when there’s a knock on it, so they get up and let Daichi in.

“Hey,” they say warmly, and although Daichi looks surprised, he greets them with a smile.

“Hey! Koushi didn’t say anything about you being here.”

“We’re supposed to be working on a paper for philosophy,” Asahi says as Daichi enters. He brushes a light layer of snow off his coat as Asahi closes the door behind him. “Although neither of us has actually gotten much done.”

“Speak for yourself!” Koushi exclaims, a half-eaten Pop-Tart in their hand.

Asahi grins. “Alright, I haven’t gotten much done.”

Daichi hums thoughtfully. “I could help, maybe. After I get Koushi’s help with this ed stuff. They took this class last semester.”

Daichi and Koushi take over the couch. Asahi goes to the floor and lays on their stomach, making little headway on their paper. They’re distracted by the giggling coming from the couch, mostly from Koushi. When Asahi turns their head, they see Daichi with a deep blush on his face.

“So much for getting work done,” Asahi says, shutting their laptop firmly. “I think we all need a break.”

“Fine by me,” Koushi agrees.

Daichi sighs and sets his textbook to the side. “We’ll call it a brain break. Twenty minutes and we go back to work.”

“Alright,” Koushi agrees. They scoot over into the middle and gesture to their now empty spot. Asahi goes to it.

“You know the most frustrating part about this,” Daichi says, indicating his textbook with his hand, “is that I took a really similar class last year, but the credit didn’t transfer.”

“That’s some bullshit,” Koushi says. 

Daichi sighs. “There were a few classes like that. Enough that I should have graduated early if I’d stayed where I was, and now I’ll be graduating on time.”

“So why did you transfer?” Asahi asks.

Daichi frowns, his face closing off. “I needed a new start.”

Asahi swallows. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Daichi looks up at Asahi and shakes his head, and the darkness that had clouded over his face dissipates. “Sorry, Asahi. Don’t worry about it. It’s a little hard to talk about still.”

“You really don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want.”

Daichi waves a hand. “It’s fine. I was going to college in my hometown, staying with my parents, but they, uh. Kicked me out over the summer. I was dating a guy at the time, and they found us together, and it didn’t go well. I tried to stay with the guy but he freaked out on me, you know. Koutarou took me in and encouraged me to come here, so I got all my paperwork in order and transferred.”

“Koutarou’s a good friend,” Asahi says quietly. Daichi nods fervently.

“The best.”

Koushi sighs. “And yet you still went home to see them over break.”

“They said they missed me!” Daichi exclaims. 

Asahi frowns. “It didn’t go well?”

“He made it about eight hours before he found a hotel for the break,” Koushi says.

“Fuck,” says Asahi. 

“It’s not all bad,” Daichi says, sighing quietly. “My little sister came and stayed with me for a few days, and I saw some friends from high school. Anyway. Enough about my shit. What about your family, Asahi?”

“Uh,” Asahi says, wincing.

“Parental abandonment seems to be a theme among us,” Koushi says.

“No, it’s not quite like that,” Asahi sighs. “My parents aren’t the sort who abandoned me, or anything. They just kept aggressively calling me a boy, their son, whatever, no matter how many times I corrected them. I’m the one who chose to stop going home, and they haven’t exactly argued the point.”

Daichi reaches out a hand and touches Asahi’s knee. “I’m sorry, Asahi. That’s really shitty.”

“My parents kicked me out,” Koushi says. They shrug. “I haven’t been home since I was eighteen. I live with my aunt in New York City during the holidays. I don’t miss them.”

Daichi huffs. “Jesus. All three of us got fucked, huh?”

"Shared trauma!" Koushi exclaims. They throw both arms up in the air. "It's the quintessential gay experience."

Asahi and Daichi both laugh, and Koushi rearranges so they’ve got one arm around both of them.

“Koutarou’s parents are really cool,” Daichi says thoughtfully. “Kou came out when he was 14 and they never had any issue with it.”

“Yuuji and Tetsurou went home with him for Christmas, too,” Asahi says. “It’s good one of us didn’t get totally screwed in that department.”

They sit thoughtfully together, quietly contemplating, until Koushi stands. 

“We brought the mood way the hell down in here,” they say. “Come on, we gotta do something fun.”

“What are you planning?” Asahi asks suspiciously.

Koushi doesn’t answer. They cross the room to their speaker and set their phone on it, and the beginning notes of a familiar song begin to echo through the room.

“Up, both of you!” Koushi commands, returning to the couch and taking Daichi and Asahi by the arm. “Come on, we’re dancing!”

_ When I wake up/well, I know I’m gonna be/I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you/when I go out/well, I know I’m gonna be/I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you _

Daichi gives in easily enough, standing and moving his hips in a way that Koushi seems to accept. Asahi’s not a dancer, and never has been, and feels stiff and frozen under Koushi’s gaze.

“Come on, Asahi!” they exclaim. “Dance with us!”

“I really don’t know what I’m doing,” says Asahi.

Koushi comes over and grabs their sides. “Just move back and forth,” they say, pushing Asahi this way and that, and slowly Asahi tries to settle into the movement.

_ Well I would walk 500 miles/and I would walk 500 more/just to be the man who walked 1,000 miles to fall down at your door _

Koushi and Daichi yell the words along with the chorus, and seeing them loosen up helps Asahi feel more themself, too. Daichi’s switched over to marching, a serious look on his face that brings laughter bubbling up in Asahi’s chest, laughter they can’t hold back. They let it out, a bright burst of it sounding over the music, and soon Koushi and Daichi have joined in, too. Then Koushi grabs a book and begins to use it as a drum, and Daichi grabs a remote to use as a microphone.

_ Da da da da! (da da da da)/Da da da da! (da da da da)/Da da da dun diddle un diddle un diddle uh da _

Asahi shouts the back up part into their makeshift mic. Koushi leads them all in a tiny parade around the couch as they scream-sing the words.

_ And I would walk 500 miles/and I would walk 500 more/just to be the man who walked 1,000 miles to fall down at your door _

At the end, all three collapse onto the couch in a fit of giggles. Asahi finds that if they look at Koushi or Daichi they break into even more laughter, so they have to keep their eyes trained on the floor as they settle down. Daichi’s the first one to break the silence.

“Thanks, Koushi,” he says, and Asahi looks up to find a brilliant smile on his face. “I really needed that.”

“Me, too,” Koushi agrees.

“I can’t remember when I’ve had that much fun,” Asahi admits.

They look at each other, beaming and catching their breath, and Asahi is glad for the friendship blossoming between the three of them.

\---

Asahi starts to count the weeks in Koushi’s requests. They call twice a week, although the timing is variable, so by the time they’ve gone through “Run,” “Drive,” “Northwestern Skies,” “The Only Exception,” “Focus,” and “This is For Real,” Asahi’s known Daichi and Koushi for over a month already.

They spend a lot of time together. Asahi’s nights shuffle between hanging out with Tetsurou, Yuuji, and Koutarou, and hanging out with either Daichi or Koushi, but usually both of them. They can’t remember a time when they’ve ever been this socially active. Fortunately Koushi and Daichi both stay up-to-date with their studying, and between the two of them and Tetsurou, Asahi stays on top of his schoolwork. 

Asahi’s nearing the end of their last shift at the station when they field a call from Koushi.

“Asahi!” Koushi’s voice says into the phone, a little louder than Asahi had anticipated.

They hold the phone away from themself a bit when they answer. “Hey, Koushi, what’s up?”

“I’ve got a request, as usual,” Koushi says. “Well, two requests, actually. The first is for you to come over to Daichi’s after your shift is over.”

Asahi considers the essay waiting for them, and then considers that they’ve still got all of Sunday to write it. “Sounds good,” Asahi agrees. “And your song?”

“Hm,” Koushi says. “How about...something by Fall Out Boy? I’ll let you pick which one.”

“No pressure, though, right?”

Koushi laughs. “Of course not. Just maybe don’t play ‘Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down.’”

“I can handle that,” Asahi chuckles. “I’ll see you and Daichi in a bit, then.”

“Bye!” Koushi says, holding out the last vowel until Asahi hangs up the phone.

Asahi double checks to make sure all their stuff is back in their bag in the thirty seconds they’ve got after they queue Koushi’s request. Their hand is already fisted in the fabric of their coat as they introduce it.

“Your last song from me tonight is another request for Mr. Honeybuns from the infamous Suga. I hope you all like Fall Out Boy, because we’ve got ‘The Last of the Real Ones’ on here for you. My personal opinion is that this album is critically underrated, so give it a listen. Have a good night, Syracuse. Ace Asa out.”

Asahi sets the headphones to the side. The late night DJ for the evening is a senior that Asahi saw milling in the hallway a few minutes ago, so they grab their bag and head out of the studio.

“All yours,” they say, holding the door open for him, and the senior nods in their direction before heading inside.

Asahi pulls out their phone and sends  _ on my way! _ to their group text with Daichi and Koushi. To Tetsurou, Yuuji, and Koutarou, they send  _ w/ Dai and Koushi tonight, see you guys tomorrow! _

_ When’s the wedding? _ Tetsurou replies, and Asahi rolls their eyes.

_ I’m helping plan it, obviously. If Daichi can’t even tell Koushi he likes them, you don’t expect him to be able to plan his own wedding, do you? _

_ Not what I meant, but you’re probably right, _ Tetsurou answers.  _ Have a good time ;) _

Asahi thinks about that winking face all the way over to Daichi’s apartment. They really have no idea what Tetsurou could have meant. If he wasn’t talking about Koushi and Daichi’s wedding, who was he talking about?

They decide as they approach the apartment that it’s not worth worrying about. Tetsurou is a man of mystery when he wants to be, and Asahi supposes all will be revealed sooner or later.

Koushi answers about half a second after Asahi knocks, a wine glass in their hand and a bright red flush over their cheeks. “Asahi!”

“Hi, Koushi,” Asahi greets.

Koushi wraps them in a tight hug. “You’re cold,” they complain.

“You haven’t let me close the door yet,” Asahi laughs. 

Asahi manages to untangle themself from Koushi and close the door. “Hello, Daichi,” they call as they remove their coat and scarf.

“Hello, Asahi!” Daichi answers. “Yui’s here, too!”

“Hi, Yui.”

“Hi, Asahi!” she greets.

Everyone’s a little loud and bright, and Asahi wonders how much wine they’ve gone through tonight. Yui shoves a glass into their hand before they manage to sit down.

“It’s been a shitty week!” she yells, but she’s smiling through it. “So we decided to...wine.” She giggles at her own pun.

“Wine!” Koushi agrees. They wrap their arm around Asahi’s waist as they pass. 

The apartment is warm, and Asahi quickly sheds down to the T-shirt they’d been hiding under a sweater all day. The wine is delicious, too sweet and just the right amount of bitter, and Asahi’s on a second glass before they realize. They set it down carefully.

“So what was so shitty about the week?” they ask.

Yui sighs loudly. “Kiyoko...has a boyfriend.”

“Boo!” shouts Daichi, taking a sip from his wine glass.

Koushi tilts their head to the side. “You’re into Kiyoko? I thought you liked Daichi.”

Yui laughs while Daichi turns bright red. “Daichi here won’t have me,” she says, slapping his shoulder. “He can’t handle all of this.”

Koushi and Yui giggle more. Asahi catches Daichi’s eye, and he mouths “help.”

“And aaaanyway,” Yui exclaims. She looks suddenly mischievous. “Daichi’s too busy pining over—”

“I really think it’s time for you to go to bed!” Daichi shouts, standing suddenly and taking Yui by the arm. 

Yui laughs. “You’re always so scared, Dai.”

Daichi’s eyes grow wide as he leads Yui back to her bedroom. The door shuts behind both of them, and Koushi turns to Asahi.

“Did you know Daichi was interested in someone?” they ask, much quieter than before.

Asahi shrugs. If they open their mouth the truth might come out, and they don’t want to betray Daichi like that. 

Koushi looks contemplative. “I wonder who it is. And why he’s being so weird about it.”

Asahi takes a long sip of wine.

“Sorry about that,” Daichi says, reappearing from Yui’s bedroom. “Yui gets really bad at keeping secrets when she’s had wine, specifically. Should have done vodka or something.”

Koushi’s eyes twinkle. “You know you can tell us, right?”

Daichi bites his lip. His eyes flicker toward Asahi. Asahi takes another long sip of wine.

“It’s no one you know, anyway,” Daichi murmurs, looking away.

Koushi sighs. “Well. I don’t think you’re telling me the truth, but do what you want, I guess. I should probably head back to my own apartment.”

They stand, setting their glass on the table. They wobble over to Asahi and press a kiss to their cheek, and then over to Daichi, where they repeat the action. They look satisfactorily at both of them.

“Be good, and don’t have too much fun without me,” they admonish. They wrap their coat around themself and head out the door.

When the door closes, Daichi rests his head against it, sighing loudly.

“I still think you should just tell them,” Asahi says, tossing their legs over the end of Daichi’s couch. They’re still burning from the feeling of Koushi’s lips against their skin, but that could just as easily be the wine. “It could be you, right?”

“It’s not me,” Daichi sighs. He sits down, but not before carefully brushing Asahi’s ponytail to the side so he doesn’t sit on it. “I just have a feeling.”

“Okay, but did your feeling ask Koushi or is it just based on intuition?” Asahi asks.

Daichi grimaces down at them.

“I’m just saying, Daichi, there’s no reason they shouldn’t like you,” Asahi goes on. “You’re sweet, you’re smart, you’re funny, you’re fun to be around.”

A blush rises steadily into Daichi’s features, and Asahi realizes what they’ve said. Red fills their own cheeks, too.

“If you...don’t mind my saying so,” they say, suddenly awkward.

Daichi shakes his head fervently. “I don’t mind,” he answers quietly.

They look at each other for a long moment before Asahi has to turn away. 

“So you should ask, is what I think,” Asahi says. 

Daichi sighs and pets Asahi’s hair absentmindedly. “I’ll think about it.”

Asahi smiles. “That’s better than nothing.”

\---

The apartment is silent. Yuuji and Tetsurou are nose-to-nose, a cup of beer in front of each of them. 

“You’re going down, Kuroo,” Yuuji snarls.

Tetsurou pokes Yuuji hard in the shoulder. “You wish, Terushima.”

Asahi still isn’t sure exactly how this began. Koutarou had said it was something about a bet to see who had the worst taste in beer, which became who could drink a glass the fastest, which had somehow led to the three of them dragging Asahi to the mercado in town for the shittiest beer they could find. Cans are lined up along the pool table in their living room, because of course they’d had to taste test them all first and reach a consensus on which was, in fact, the worst. Tetsurou and Yuuji are now ready to face off. Koutarou’s the official, unbiased judge. He leans in and kisses each of them on the cheek.

“Contestants, start your engines!” he declares.

“Engines?” Asahi questions.

Tetsurou and Yuuji both make some sort of horrible growling noise, and Asahi decides quickly they don’t want to know where that sound might have originated.

“On your marks!”

“Should we put pillows behind them in case they pass out or anything?” Asahi questions.

“I’ll catch them!” Koutarou declares, showing off his muscles. Yuuji pretends to swoon.

“I guess we just...hope they don’t fall at the same time,” Asahi sighs.

“Get set!”

“We’ll be fine, Asahi,” Tetsurou says without turning his eyes toward them.

“GO!”

Yuuji and Tetsurou each grab their cup and begin to chug. Koutarou’s cheering them on in equal measure. Asahi watches them with their arms crossed over their chest. 

Tetsurou’s eyes get very wide. Yuuji slams the cup down in front of them.

“Fuck yeah!” he shouts. “You lost, you have to bottom for two weeks!”

Tetsurou sprays him with the bit of beer left in his mouth.

Koutarou bursts into laughter as Yuuji’s face twists. “Ah, c’mon!” he shouts. He tackles Tetsurou, and they go to the ground in a damp heap. Yuuji presses wet kisses all over Tetsurou’s face, and Tetsurou groans and tries to shove him off.

Koutarou comes over and joins Asahi on the couch.

“Sorry about them,” he says lightly as Tetsurou and Yuuji roll over each other. “You know how competitive we are around here.”

“I didn’t see you competing,” Asahi points out.

Koutarou grins. “They both know I’d kick their asses.”

Tetsurou manages to stand and hauls Yuuji along with him. 

“We have to go change now, since  _ someone _ can’t hold his beer,” Yuuji says.

Tetsurou cuffs him on the side of the head. “I wouldn’t have had to change if you hadn’t tried to crush me.”

They bicker all the way into their bedroom. Koutarou watches them with a fond smile on their face.

“So how’s it going with Daichi and Koushi?” Koutarou asks, turning back to Asahi. “Daichi managed to confess yet?”

“You know he won’t,” Asahi says with a frown. “It would be easier if Koushi would stop with all the pretense and just tell Mr. Honeybuns, whoever he may be.”

“You really don’t think it’s Daichi?” Koutarou questions.

Asahi shrugs. “I mean, Koushi specifically said it wasn’t him? They said I didn’t know him.”

Koutarou looks thoughtful. “Maybe you’re Mr. Honeybuns.”

Asahi laughs, long enough for Tetsurou and Yuuji to come back into the room. “Kou, they’ve been doing the dedication thing longer than I’ve known either of them.”

“Maybe you caught their eye from afar,” Koutarou says. He’s grinning now. “You do have excellent buns.”

“Great buns,” Yuuji agrees. “High quality.”

Asahi ducks their head. “Thanks for the objectification. The point is, I don’t think me or Daichi will ever know until Koushi spits it out. And who knows if or when that will happen.”

“You should make a bet with them,” Yuuji says. “And the stakes can be them telling you who the mystery guy is.”

“You could bribe them,” Tetsurou says. “Or blackmail them.”

“You could just ask nicely,” Koutarou adds.

Asahi laughs. “Guys, I really don’t need to know that badly.”

All three of them take on varying shades of disappointment.

“Koushi will tell whoever it is when they’re ready,” Asahi says. “And besides, it’s not like it directly affects me, right?”

Tetsurou meets their eyes. “If you say so, Asahi.”

\---

“I need more songs,” Koushi sighs, turning their head to Asahi during a study session-turned-hangout. Philosophy has long been discarded. Koushi’s working on a paper for an education class and Asahi is laying on the floor with one headphone in. Daichi had left a few minutes before to head to a late afternoon class. “I’m running out, if you can believe it.”

“You’ve been at it for months now, Koushi,” Asahi observes drily. “I’d be more surprised if you weren’t already out.”

“Asahiiiii,” Koushi whines. They poke at Asahi’s side. “I’m asking you for help. You’ve had tons of requests, right?”

“You want me to repurpose other peoples’ requests?” Asahi lifts an eyebrow and turns to them, pulling the headphone out of their ear. “That’s real romantic.”

Koushi squawks. “You’re the song expert!” they insist. “Fucking help me!”

Asahi sighs and rolls their eyes. “Bloom. Your Song. At Last.”

“Oh my god, Asahi.” Koushi rolls over and flops on top of Asahi.

“Ow, Koushi, get off!”

“Not until you say you’ll help!”

“Fine, fine!”

Koushi rolls over and off. Asahi’s chest heaves with exertion. Koushi turns to them and gives them a grin.

Asahi sighs. “Let me pull up my playlists,” they say. Koushi is practically vibrating with excitement as they unlock their phone and navigate to where they’ve got their playlists stored. They hover over a playlist called “Someday.” They look up at Koushi. They look down at their phone.

Something feels off, and they can’t tell what it is.

They click the playlist. “Yeah, alright. Um, ‘Song #3’ by Stone Sour. ‘Maps’ by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. ‘Everlong’ by the Foo Fighters, I’m partial to the acoustic version.”

Koushi’s staring at them.

“Are you gonna write these down or something?” Asahi questions, raising an eyebrow.

“Right,” Koushi says quickly. They pull a notebook and pen to them and begin to scribble as Asahi lists more songs. For a few minutes, Asahi scrolls through their playlist and finds more songs, more words and tunes that were special enough for them to add to a playlist about someone they hadn’t yet found. And now they’re just giving them over to Koushi to use for themself instead.

Maybe it feels odd because they’re jealous? That Koushi has found someone and they haven’t?

Hopefully that’s all it is.

“Thank you so much for this, Asahi,” Koushi says as Asahi gets to the end of the playlist. “Any more?”

There’s one song left. They look down at it; more hesitation tugs at their stomach, urgent and clawing. 

Asahi tips their head back and looks up at the ceiling. “You really wanna tell him you love him?”

Koushi takes a deep breath. “I really do.”

And, oh, that does something to Asahi. That takes its hands and closes them around their throat. That aims a thousand tiny pinpricks at their heart, resulting in a million bleeding wounds. That seizes their stomach and twists it into knots too tangled to unravel. And it hits them, very suddenly, that they  _ like _ Koushi. That even though they’ve known the whole time that Koushi’s pining after someone else, their heart has held out just enough hope to let itself go and get broken. 

_ Shit _ .

They swallow hard and attempt to recover from this revelation. They can deal with their impending breakdown in the privacy of their own room later. Right now they need to help Koushi.

“You know Sufjan Stevens?” 

Koushi nods. “A few of his songs, yeah.”

“Play him ‘The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us.’ That should do it.”

Koushi looks at them for a long moment. “I gotta say, Asahi, that doesn’t exactly sound like a love song.”

“Just do it,” Asahi says, snappier than they intended. They take a deep breath. “Here, I’ll play it. You’ll see.”

Asahi searches the song on Spotify and sets their phone between themself and Koushi. The beginning notes unfurl themselves into Asahi’s ears, and they shut their eyes, avoiding Koushi’s gaze. It’s been one of their favorites for as long as they can remember. They mouth the words along with the music. 

_ Oh, how I meant to tease him/Oh, how I meant no harm/touching his back with my hand I kiss him/I see the wasp on the length of my arm _

_ We were in love!/We were in love!/Palisades, the Palisades/I can wait, I can wait _

The room is otherwise silent while the song plays. Trumpet and woodwinds and other instruments spill out from the speaker and weave their way into the atmosphere. Asahi doesn’t look at Koushi until the song has ended, but when they do, Koushi’s staring at them.

“That’ll work,” they say quietly.

Asahi nods. “I thought so.”

It starts again. Asahi doesn’t bother to turn it off. They and Koushi both are somber, listening through again, and when it ends Asahi reaches out and grabs the phone to pause it.

“It’s a good song,” Koushi says quietly.

“Good album,” Asahi answers.

The silence seems impenetrable now. Asahi sits up quickly, the blood rushing to their ears.

“I’ve gotta go,” they say.

Koushi doesn’t move. “I’ll see you later.”

Asahi opens their mouth, then shuts it. They step over Koushi’s prone form, grab their bag, and head back to their room. 

Spring is at least considering rearing its head; the breeze is slightly warmer than usual, enough so that it doesn’t bite into Asahi’s sweater the way it usually does. They manage to think as few thoughts as possible on the walk between Koushi’s room and their own. When they return to their own apartment, they set their phone to repeat ‘Predatory Wasp’ and faceplant into their bed.

They like Koushi.

_ Shit. _

\---

Asahi knows when the phone rings that night exactly who will be on the other end of the line. They stare at the phone while it rings, their limbs heavy with reluctance. Finally they force a sigh and lift it to their ear.

“WCNY radio station, this is Ace Asa, what can I put on for you?”

“Hey, Asahi. Are you alright? You left pretty suddenly earlier.”

Asahi squeezes their eyes shut, bites their lip to keep from telling the truth. “Yeah, uh, I just had a bad stomach ache. I feel a lot better now.”

“That’s good to hear!” Koushi’s voice is bright, and despite how shitty Asahi feels, it still brings them a spark of happiness to hear it. “Hey, can you play ‘Audrey, Start the Revolution’ for me?”

Asahi clenches their fist tightly. Their nails dig into the palm of their hand. “Yeah, I can do that. Any message tonight?”

“I don’t think so. I’m glad you’re feeling better. I was really worried.”

A deep breath, in and out. “Thanks, Koushi.”

“You’re the best, Asahi. Thanks so much.”

Bite the tongue, don’t say anything. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye!”

Asahi hangs up the phone. The tension bleeds out of them, and they relax their muscles. There are tiny crescents where their nails were cutting into them. 

They put the song on without much fanfare. “Hello again, Mr. Honeybuns. Suga’s got a good one for you tonight. This is Anberlin’s ‘Audrey, Start the Revolution.’”

Cue song, and Asahi’s headphones come off their head without them remembering having done it.

They’re not sure how to move on from here. It is, of course, entirely their fault that Koushi’s requesting songs they’re familiar with, so intimately familiar, in some cases, that they know the tune like the back of their hand or the beat of their heart. But they hadn’t known—or hadn’t accepted—that they liked Koushi when they handed over the list of songs. It’s like they gave Koushi the exact tools to hurt them.

Asahi needs help, they realize with a sigh.

Fortunately, they know who to turn to.

\---

“Hey, Daichi,” Asahi says as they shake the snow off their boots and pass through Daichi’s doorway.

“Hey, Asahi,” Daichi greets. They embrace briefly, Daichi’s heat cutting through the cold Asahi’s layers couldn’t keep them protected from. “You usually go to bed after your shifts.”

“It’s Friday,” Asahi observes. “I can stay up if I want.”

Daichi grins. “Well, I was glad to hear from you either way. What can I do for you? You want a beer?”

“Sure.” 

Daichi grabs both of them bottles from the fridge as Asahi sheds their layers. The caps go into a jar with a few hundred others, making a satisfying clink as they do. 

“You want lime? It’s Corona.”

Asahi stops their trek to the couch and looks blankly at Daichi. “You keep lime in your fridge?”

“Yui keeps lime in the fridge. I am but a humble recipient of that blessing.”

Asahi laughs. “Yeah, alright, lime sounds good.”

Asahi watches as Daichi cuts the lime. Daichi’s hands are thick and broad, as large as Asahi’s even though he’s several inches shorter. He moves with precision as he chooses a knife from the block. He cuts off two even slices, the juice sinking into the cutting board beneath his fingers, and shoves one in each of their beers.

“Now we just need some nachos and it’ll be like Taco Tuesday in here,” Daichi jokes. He rinses his dishes and brings the beers over to the couch where Asahi is waiting.

“We can DoorDash some. I know a place.”

Daichi laughs, the rich sound that Asahi has become so familiar with. It adds another coating of heat to their skin. “So what was so urgent that you’re breaking your routine to come hang out with me on a Friday night?”

Asahi eyes him over the top of his beer. “You assume I have an ulterior motive for wanting to hang out with you?”

“Unannounced? Yes. I know you, Asahi, you like your plans.”

Asahi watches Daichi for a long moment. His throat bobs as he takes a swallow of his beer. When he’s finished he wipes his hand with the back of his mouth and grins at Asahi.

“What? I’m not wrong.”

“No, you’re not,” Asahi answers. They shake their head. “I just didn’t realize you’d noticed.”

“I notice a lot of things, Asahi Azumane.” He reaches over and taps Asahi’s beer. “Like how you haven’t actually taken a drink of this yet.”

Asahi finds suddenly that their throat is dry, and they take a sip to remedy that. “Right, well. I came over here because you’re the expert on pining after someone you refuse to communicate with.”

“Alright, ouch,” Daichi says. He shifts into a more open position, his back against the arm of the couch, one knee against the cushion and the other leg on the floor. Asahi mirrors him. “But point taken, I guess. You pining?”

Asahi sighs. “Maybe.”

“You’re pining. I know the look. And the feeling.” Daichi grins at them. “Who’s the lucky...guy? Girl? Person?”

As if Asahi would even consider telling him. “No one you know.”

Daichi narrows his eyes, and something like recognition passes over his face. Asahi looks away quickly.

“So...what do you do?” they ask.

Daichi snorts. “Fuck if I know. You gonna tell them?”

“No!” Asahi says quickly. They look up at Daichi. “They, uh. I already know they’re not into me.”

Daichi reaches over and places his hand on Asahi’s knee. “I find that hard to believe, Asahi. You’re a hell of a catch, you know.”

Asahi’s breath is sucked right out of their lungs. 

It’s not just Koushi they like.

It takes a lot of effort for Asahi to not get up and flee the fucking apartment, but they do succeed. They take a long, long swing of beer. “Well, uh.” They try to smile and wonder if it meets their eyes. “You know, you’re not too bad yourself.”

“Now you’re just teasing me,” Daichi says, and the tense moment passes as he moves his hand back to his lap.

“I would never do that, Daichi,” Asahi says, straightfaced, and then they both collapse into laughter.

\---

_ Mayday mayday mayday _ , Asahi sends to the group text they have with Koutarou, Yuuji, and Tetsurou. They’re barely two steps out of Daichi’s apartment.  _ Crisis on hand please send help. _

_ We’re still up, come over, _ Tetsurou answers almost immediately.

Asahi rushes over to their apartment. It seems they ordered pizza for dinner, and Koutarou presses a piece into their hand before they’ve even got their coat off.

“Thank you, but I can’t eat,” Asahi answers.

All three of them stare at him.

“Shit, this is serious,” Yuuji says. Koutarou takes the pizza back from them and shoves it into his own mouth, his eyes still staring at Asahi.

Asahi sheds his coat and tosses it in the corner. “I have fucked up on several different levels,” he announces.

The four of them move into the living room, where Asahi collapses into the armchair. Koutarou, Yuuji and Tetsurou move as one unit onto the couch, where they all sit with their elbows on their knees.

“I doubt you fucked up, Asahi, you’re a pretty careful sort of dude,” Koutarou says, mouth still stuffed with pizza.

“Not careful enough,” Asahi says. “I have a crush.”

There’s a moment of tense silence, and then Tetsurou breaks out into laughter.

“Oh, I saw this coming from a mile away,” he says through tears. Koutarou and Yuuji both stare at him. “Is it Koushi or Daichi?”

Asahi grinds their teeth. “Both of them.”

“ _ Oh, shit _ ,” say Yuuji and Koutarou in unison. 

“It really isn’t funny,” Asahi sighs, although there’s a bit of a grin tugging at their own lips, too. Just a bit of one. “Koushi asked me songs to dedicate to whoever, and I felt all torn up, and then I went to Daichi to cry about it and he was so sweet, and.”

Tetsurou reaches over and puts his hand on Asahi’s. “You’re such a disaster, dude. Remember how you told us literally last week it didn’t affect you?”

“I know,” moans Asahi loudly. “But Daichi likes Koushi, and Koushi likes someone else entirely, so what the hell am I supposed to do about it?”

Tetsurou stops laughing. He looks at Yuuji, who looks at Koutarou, who’s busy grabbing another piece of pizza from the box.

“I don’t know,” Koutarou says through a mouthful of crust. “How did we get together?”

“I dragged your pining asses to bed with me,” Yuuji says. He turns to acknowledge Asahi. “So there’s always that approach.”

Asahi frowns deeply. “Somehow I don’t think that will go over well.”

“You could do something with the station,” Koutarou suggests. “Dedicate songs to them or something.”

“Sort of against protocol,” Tetsurou says. “Like, not against the rules per se, but frowned upon while you’re on shift.”

“And also I can’t  _ tell _ them,” Asahi says. “They don't return my feelings. I already know that. What I’m asking is what to do now.”

Silence fills the room, punctuated only by the muted noises of Koutarou’s chewing. 

“I’m fucked, aren’t I?” Asahi asks, feeling their heart drop.

Tetsurou shakes his head. “I don’t know, dude. I don’t know.”

\---

“Mr. Honeybuns, if you’re out there, I hope you appreciate this next song,” Asahi says. “Suga’s request for you tonight is ‘Admit Defeat’ by Bastille. To everyone else, if you haven’t listened to the extended  _ This Got Out of Hand  _ version of their most recent album,  _ Doom Days _ , I highly recommend you check it out, there’s quite a few hidden gems on there. Again, this is ‘Admit Defeat’ for Mr. Honeybuns.”

Asahi manages to stifle their groan until they get the mic off. The trumpets sound through their headphones, and they briefly consider trying to actually listen through the song. 

The thought of Koushi with someone else quickly deters them, and their headphones slide down to their neck.

_ You think Google would actually be able to tell me how to get over them? _ He sends to Yuuji, Tetsurou, and Koutarou. 

_ can’t believe you’d ask google before us, _ Tetsurou answers.

Asahi sighs.  _ If you’ve got ideas, I’m all ears. Eyes. However that works over text. _

The song ends; Asahi puts on something with a screaming chorus and intense guitar and lets the music play through their ears as they wait for answers.

Yuuji’s fingers are fastest to respond.  _ strip club? strip club _ .

_ yuu that’s insensitive, _ Tetsurou messages.  _ we gotta wait at least a week before the strip club. first we gotta have a good hate session. burn their pics and shit. _

_ women’s health mag says lean into that heartache, bro _ , Koutarou sends back.  _ are u into journaling? u should journal ur feelings _

Asahi laughs out loud, heart feeling lighter than it has in a long while.

_ You’re a good friend, Kou _ , they answer.  _ Yuuji, Tetsurou, you’re both fired. _

_ hell yeah! _ Koutarou sends back.

Tetsurou comes back with  _ FUCK YOU TOO ASAHI _ . Yuuji sends a middle finger emoji.

The rest of their shift passes uneventfully. Asahi steers clear of anything that might even resemble a love song, and by the time they’re getting ready to go back to their apartment, they’ve almost forgotten about the entire predicament. Their phone buzzes just before the end of their shift, and they look down to see Koushi’s name on the screen. 

_ i was w ~him~ when you played my request tonight; he totally loved it!! thnx asahi bb i owe you the world _

Asahi bites their lip.  _ Of course, no problem! _ They answer, and then they shove their phone deeply into their pocket and try to ignore the way it burns their skin.

\---

The following Tuesday finds Asahi huddled between Daichi and Koushi on Daichi’s couch. If any real studying happened, it ended long ago, and now Daichi and Koushi are arguing over what to watch on Netflix. Asahi’s trying to focus on even breathing; Koushi’s got an arm flung over their shoulder, and Daichi’s arm is resting on their thigh as he leans over to talk to Koushi. 

“ _ Into the Spiderverse _ is a masterpiece of modern cinema,” Daichi says, and he’s only inches from Asahi’s face. Asahi tries to not tremble.

“I’m not saying it isn’t!” Koushi says. “I’m saying we’ve all seen it fifteen times at this point and we should watch something new. Right? Asahi, how many times have you seen  _ Spiderverse _ ?”

Asahi turns their head; Koushi’s right there, too, their hazel eyes reflecting the light of the television screen. They swallow.

“A few,” they admit.

“I’m right, and therefore I get to pick the movie,” Koushi says. They steal the remote from Daichi’s hands. Daichi’s mouth rearranges into a tight frown.

“You’ll regret this, Asahi,” he says, and his voice is low and his breath tickles Asahi’s ear. “They’re gonna pick a horror movie just to spite me.”

They end up watching something Asahi can’t recall the name of later. Asahi hates horror movies, but they’ve never mentioned so to either Daichi or Koushi.

It’s not even ten minutes into the movie before Daichi’s got his head buried in Asahi’s shoulder.

“Fuck you, Koushi Sugawara,” he murmurs. “Fuck you so much.”

“You wish, Daichi Sawamura,” Koushi says. They seem entirely unaffected by the screaming on the screen. Asahi keeps their eyes squeezed firmly shut.

Two hours pass like this, with Daichi and Asahi trembling and Koushi giggling at the two of them and the movie. At a particularly tense scene, when Daichi has dared to open his eyes and peek at the screen, Koushi goes around Asahi’s back and grabs his side, and the scream that Daichi lets out is nothing short of unholy. He reaches for the remote and turns off the screen.

“Asahi, pin Koushi for me, would you, please?” Daichi says, his voice sickly sweet, and Asahi barely has a chance to react before Daichi’s throwing himself over Asahi’s lap to grab at Koushi and tickle them.

When they look back on it later, they can’t remember the movie. But they can, in sharp detail, recall every touch they shared with Koushi or Daichi all night long. It plays like a movie through their head every time they close their eyes.

This is getting out of hand, they think to themself. They’ve really got to do something.

\---

“I think I’ll request ‘The Geese of Beverly Road’ tomorrow night,” Koushi says thoughtfully in the middle of their study session.

Asahi’s heart twinges uncomfortably. It’s one of their favorites, and the idea of it being played now—by their own suggestion, but not for them—makes their heart cry out in pain. “Uh, you know, I changed my mind on that one,” they say quickly. They’re a terrible liar, but maybe karma will give them this one when they’ve been so good in the past. “I was thinking, um, maybe it’s too serious? The National are a really intense band, you know, their lyrics don’t always make a lot of sense—”

Koushi laughs. “I don’t know what you mean, Asahi. I’ve been listening to it, it’s perfect. That one line,  _ we’re the heirs to the glimmering world _ , it always gets me.”

Asahi tries not to let despair show on their face. “I didn’t know you’d been listening to the ones I recommended.”

Koushi blinks. A confused smile appears on their face. “I wasn’t going to just dedicate them without trying them out first,” they say. “I trust you, of course, but it would still be good to know what I’m saying with the songs.”

Their eyes are clear as they gaze at Asahi. Asahi has to look away.

“Yeah, uh. I guess you’re right.”

Koushi chuckles once, but it feels hollow and forced. “Anyway, it’s not like Daichi’s going to know—”

Koushi stops dead in the middle of their sentence. Asahi looks up from the carpet they’d been studying.

“Daichi?” Asahi says.

“Fuck,” Koushi manages. 

Asahi’s jaw drops. “Oh god, it’s been Daichi this whole time.” 

“Asahi, please, fuck, don’t tell him,” Koushi begs. They crawl over and grab Asahi’s hand. “Please, I don’t want to fuck anything up with him, we’re just friends, it’s fine—”

Asahi’s head is spinning. Daichi likes Koushi. Koushi likes Daichi. 

And he likes both of them. 

_ Fuck. _

“Okay, Koushi, give me a second to process,” Asahi says, lifting the hand Koushi isn’t clutching. They squeeze the bridge of their nose tight between their thumb and finger. Koushi has a vice grip on them and is staring up at them with pleading eyes. “You lied to me.”

“I know,” Koushi says quickly. “I know, and I’m so sorry, I never meant—this all got so out of hand. The first request was just a joke, but he loves hearing the songs so much, he always seems so happy when they come on. I didn’t mean to lie to you, or to anyone. I’m really sorry, Asahi.”

Asahi swallows hard.

“I won’t say anything to Daichi,” they manage. 

Relief floods Koushi’s features. They sag. Their grip on Asahi’s hand lessens, but they still don’t let go. 

“Thank you, Asahi,” they whisper. They lift Asahi’s hand and kiss it. “I love you.”

Asahi bites down on their lip hard enough to draw blood. They taste iron in their mouth as they answer, “I love you, too.”

Koushi still doesn’t let go of their hand.

“You should say something, though,” Asahi says. “If he’s...if he’s really your friend, confessing won’t ruin anything between you. Um. You never know, maybe he likes you, too.”

Koushi finally relents, letting go of Asahi’s hand and rolling their eyes. “Yeah, right. Me and Daichi. If anything, Daichi’s into you.”

Asahi huffs a bitter laugh. “I think you’d be surprised,” they murmur. They meet Koushi’s eyes for a long moment before Koushi tears their gaze away.

“Studying,” Koushi says, sighing as they indicate the philosophy textbook discarded on the floor. “We’ve got that exam next week.”

“Right,” Asahi agrees, and they do their best to put the whole situation out of their mind.

\---

_ It’s Daichi. Mr. Honeybuns is Daichi. _

The text to Tetsurou, Koutarou and Yuuji is painful to send, but they send it anyway. They promptly shove their face into their pillow and fight against the tears threatening to form.

They’re happy for Daichi and Koushi. Truly, they are. They’re gonna figure out their shit someday and get together and have lots of fun and get married and buy a house in the Adirondacks and raise kids or goats or something. And Asahi thinks they could have a place in that life, too. Maybe they could buy the house next door and commute into the city for their job and watch their friends grow old together and definitely not pine after them the rest of their life.

It’s just not the life they want. They want to help raise the damn goats.

They’re being dramatic, of course. They recognize this. They still have plenty of time for love. But this is the first time they’ve ever had their heart broken, and it hurts a lot more than they were anticipating.

Their phone buzzes beside them, but they ignore it. It’s too exhausting to consider having to communicate with their happy, shacked up friends right now. And they must have it bad, to be taking out on Koutarou, Tetsurou, and Yuuji, who’ve never been anything but kind to them. They need to be better than this, they decide. No amount of hurt is worth fucking up the friendships they have, and no crushes are, either.

With a sigh, they lift their head and pull their phone to them.

_ shit _ from Yuuji.

_ oh fuck dude, _ from Koutarou, followed by  _ im so sorry. _

_ I was afraid of that _ , Tetsurou says.  _ I’m sorry, Asahi. _

And then another from Yuuji.

_ What are you going to do? _

Asahi takes a deep breath. A single tear falls down their cheek as they answer.

_ I’m gonna do the only thing I can do _ , they type out.  _ I’m gonna get them together, and then I’m gonna let them go. _

They hover over the send button, biting their lip, and then pressing down, letting go of their bitterness at being left out as they do. Daichi and Koushi are their friends, and they need help.

Asahi’s gonna get them together, and that means they need a plan.

\---

Asahi comes up with their plan with “The Geese of Beverly Road” playing through their studio headphones the next evening.

They...hate this plan. It sucks. It’s awful. But they have to do it.

Step one: ask Daichi to meet them at the coffeehouse on Friday at four. 

(Check.  _ That sounds great, Asahi! I’m looking forward to it :)  _ Asahi has to pretend the little smiley at the end doesn’t twist their stomach.)

Step two: ask Koushi to meet them at the coffeehouse on Friday at four.

(Check.  _ we could just get coffee in the caf?? _ / _ I want  _ good  _ coffee for once./yeah you right _ )

Step three: don’t show up to the coffeehouse.

And this is the part Asahi really hates. It’s one thing to set up friends to confess to each other when they’ve been pining after each other for longer than Asahi has known either of them. It’s another thing entirely to set up friends Asahi is half in love with themself.

But this is what they know has to be done. It’s the right thing to do, they tell themself over and over. It’s the right thing to do.

“Bro, I can feel you moping from over here,” Yuuji says on Thursday.

Asahi checks their messages again—they’d sent one to Daichi and Koushi separately, confirming again for tomorrow—and sets their phone aside. “I’m not moping.”

“You are,” Tetsurou confirms. 

“They’re right,” Koutarou echoes.

Asahi frowns at all of them. “Quit ganging up on me.”

“This is what you get for being friends with a polycule,” Tetsurou observes. “But you’re literally like, radiating bad vibes.”

Asahi looks down at themself. They’ve got the hood on their sweatshirt up, they’re hunched with their knees to their chest, their legs crossed at the feet, and they can feel their jaw tensed where they’ve been grimacing.

“I guess,” Asahi admits. They intentionally unclench, relaxing their muscles and stretching out their legs. Yuuji reaches over and tugs their hood down.

“You have such gorgeous hair,” Yuuji sighs. 

“Go ahead,” Asahi says.

Yuuji punches the air and scoots over behind Asahi. He pulls a comb out of his pocket and begins to work it through Asahi’s hair, and Asahi relaxes under his touch. Koutarou flops off the couch and lays with his head on Asahi’s thigh.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks, thick eyebrows raised.

“It’s nothing you haven’t already heard,” Asahi says. “Daichi and Koushi’s date is tomorrow. I’m going to text them at 4:00 and tell them I’m not coming and that they need to talk.”

“Asahi,” Tetsurou says. He sets down his pen and pushes his notes aside. “Have you considered that it’s possible they might like you, too?”

“They’ve been wanting each other for like a year,” Asahi says. They shake their head. “And anyway, Koutarou’s talked to Daichi, right? He hasn’t said anything?”

Koutarou very purposely looks away.

“See,” Asahi says.

“Sorry, Asahi,” Koutarou murmurs.

“Maybe he just hasn’t told Koutarou,” Tetsurou says. “Maybe he’s private about it. Maybe he’s scared because he didn’t know he could like two people at once.”

“It’s not like he doesn’t know you guys,” Asahi says.

Tetsurou sighs. “I think you’re giving up on this way too easily, Asahi.” He picks his pen back up and points it at them. “You can’t possibly know until you ask.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Koutarou says.

Yuuji taps the top of Asahi’s head with the comb. “You’re done, thank you for holding still. And I agree with Kou and Tetsu.”

“Of course you do.” Asahi touches their fingers to their hair and finds a tight braid. “I couldn’t go on the date even if I wanted to. I picked up a shift at the station tomorrow at five. That tiny freshman girl needed it covered so she could go home for the weekend.”

“Hitoka?” Tetsurou questions.

Asahi nods. “She asked so nicely.”

“And you didn’t do it on purpose so you literally couldn’t go see Daichi and Koushi?”

“She was shaking when she asked me, I couldn’t have told her no.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re a giant,” Koutarou says.

“Maybe it’s because your resting bitch face makes you look like a thug,” Yuuji says.

“Maybe it’s because she knows you’re too scared to say no,” Tetsurou says.

“She’d only know that if you told her,” Asahi says with a sigh. “The reason doesn’t matter. I’m not going and that’s that.”

Koutarou reaches up and pats Asahi’s face. “Sorry, Asahi. If it helps, I’d date you.”

Asahi smiles. “If you’re forty and I’m forty and we’re not married, we can marry each other.”

There are twin shouts from Yuuji and Tetsurou, and Asahi has to duck swings from both of them at once.

\---

“Next up we’ve got one of my personal favorites,” Asahi says into the microphone. “This is ‘Rylan’ by the National, I hope you enjoy.”

Asahi turns the music to play and pulls the headphones just behind their ears. Their head hits the desk in front of them with a dull thud. By their estimation, they’ve got about three minutes before they need to lift it to queue the next song, which is three minutes they can squeeze their eyes shut and pretend they don’t exist.

Right now, in a coffee shop just off campus, Daichi and Koushi are probably talking everything out. Telling each other they’ve been in love for so long. Holding hands. Exchanging smiles. Trading drinks from the same straw.

It’s possible Asahi’s watched too many romantic comedies.

They really don’t want to think about it, but all efforts to thwart the trains of thought headed for that station are for naught. They don’t even have anything to distract them; they’d turned their phone off just after texting Koushi and Daichi earlier. Koushi had texted them first, just after four.

_ didn’t know you invited dai too?? where are you???  _

And then Daichi a minute or two later.

_ wth asahi i’m freakin out, you left me w koushi on my own?? where are you? _

And then Asahi had created a group message.

_ You two have things you need to talk about. Koushi, tell Daichi about Mr. Honeybuns or I’ll do it for you. _

The last of their effort had been poured into shutting their phone off. 

That had been an hour ago. 

They’re only thirty-seven minutes into their shift at the station, but it already feels like the longest shift they’ve ever endured. No matter how many of their own favorite songs they play, nothing is getting them in the mood to be here. They want to go home and bury themself under a thick pile of blankets. They want to have a good cry and then get the fuck over it. 

The song is approaching its end. Asahi lifts their head heavily and browses for a moment, settling on a sad oldie. They pull the microphone close to their mouth and wait for their cue. The song ends.

“Your next song,” Asahi says, attempting to stifle their sigh, “is going to be—”

There are three knocks on the door. Asahi looks up, startled, to see Tetsurou through the glass, flanked on either side by Yuuji and Koutarou. They point up at the “on air” sign.

“Apologies, your next song is going to be—”

The door swings open. The three of them pile into the tiny studio, and before Asahi can manage to do anything at all, Tetsurou steals the microphone from in front of them.

“Hello, Syracuse!” he exclaims, entirely too loud, and Asahi yanks the headphones off their ears. “This is Tetsurou Kuroo here, in the studio early tonight, because I’ve got a very special song to play for you all!”

Yuuji and Koutarou each grab a side of the rolling chair Asahi’s perched in and scoot them to the other side of the desk. Tetsurou takes their place in front of the equipment.

“This was a request so important it couldn’t wait,” Tetsurou says. He looks Asahi in the eyes. “And this time it comes from Mr. Honeybuns. A local mystery solved at last.”

Asahi blinks. Their heart pounds in their chest.

“So, then, this one’s for Suga, for Mr. Honeybuns, and for the one instrumental in bringing them together: our very own Ace Asa. The sweet, sensual sounds of Sufjan Stevens ‘The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us.’”

Tetsurou pulls the song up and starts it. Yuuji turns the chair around so Asahi is looking at him and Koutarou.

“The fuck did you turn your phone off for?” he demands. “We called you five times on the way over here.”

“I am—I was working,” Asahi says, gesturing at the mic, and Tetsurou comes over and punches them in the arm.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he says. “Daichi and Koushi are waiting for you. Go. Right now.”

Asahi shakes their head. “I don’t understand—”

“Did you not hear the dedication?” Tetsurou exclaims. “That song is for you. From them. They like you too, you great big coward, which you would have known about five minutes after you texted them if you hadn’t turned your phone off.”

“They...like me?” Asahi questions. Their brain is having a hard time processing everything that’s happened. “They’re waiting?”

“At the coffee shop,” Koutarou says. 

“My shift—”

“I’m taking it,” Tetsurou says. “Yuuji and Kou are driving you. Go, right now, go away.”

Asahi opens and closes their mouth several times. “Are you sure?”

Tetsurou growls. “Koutarou—”

“On it!” Koutarou says, and he grabs the back of Asahi’s chair again. Yuuji opens the door, and Asahi just manages a shout as they’re pushed out of the studio.

“Don’t you dare come back!” Tetsurou shouts as Koutarou begins to gain speed. Yuuji isn’t careful; the studio door slams shut after them.

Asahi grabs either side of the seat and clings to it. Koutarou lets out a whoop as he pushes them down the hallway. 

“The stairs, Kou!” Yuuji yells.

“Fuck!” Asahi shouts.

Koutarou skids to a halt and throws his arm around Asahi’s chest, keeping them from flying downward. He catches his breath, and Yuuji catches up to them, and Asahi turns to glare at both of them.

“I am capable of walking,” Asahi says.

“Prove it, then, we’re on a schedule here,” Yuuji says. He tugs at Asahi’s wrist and pulls them down the stairs. Koutarou pushes the chair back down toward the station door and follows after them.

Asahi doesn’t think they’ve ever moved so quickly when leaving the station before. Yuuji’s hand around their wrist is tight enough to bruise, and he practically takes the steps two at a time. Koutarou is still shouting happily as they reach the first floor. 

“Keys,” Yuuji says.

Koutarou tosses them at Yuuji, and they fly in an arc directly over Asahi’s head. They’d be more impressed with the shot if they weren’t mildly concerned for their own well-being.

“Yuuji’s driving?” they question.

“Would you rather I drive?” Koutarou answers.

Fair point, Asahi supposes. Yuuji literally kicks the doors to the station open.

“This all seems really dramatic,” Asahi observes.

“Asahi!” Koutarou yelps. “It is dramatic! This could be your one and only chance at love!”

“Ouch, Kou,” Yuuji laughs.

“And as pleased as I am to be in line for your hand in marriage, I think we’d both rather you marry for love.”

Asahi would probably smile if they weren’t in the process of being shoved unceremoniously into the backseat of Tetsurou’s jeep. 

“Fine, different question then.” Koutarou and Yuuji climb into the front seat and buckle their seatbelts. “Why didn’t anyone think to call the studio?” 

Koutarou and Yuuji pause for the first time to trade confused looks.

Koutarou turns his head slowly back toward Asahi. “In hindsight, that might have been easier.”

“This is way more fun, though,” Yuuji says.

“Hell yeah!” Koutarou agrees, his fist thrust into the air. Yuuji mirrors him, leans over for a kiss, and throws the car into drive.

Yuuji is only trusted with Tetsurou’s car under the direst of circumstances, which they’ve all apparently decided these are. Asahi has never been more thankful for the little handle above their seat, which they cling to with white knuckles.

“Hey here’s a question,” Koutarou says, looking up from his phone. “What’s the worst Jonas Brothers song?”

Yuuji skids to a halt at a red light and looks at his boyfriend. “Modern or classic?”

“Let’s go modern.”

“It’s obviously ‘Sucker,’ Kou, this isn’t even a question.”

Asahi wonders vaguely how this is their life: Yuuji driving 45 in a 25 toward a coffee shop where the two people Asahi likes are apparently waiting for him, holding a light-hearted debate about a boy band with Koutarou like this is the norm.

College is weird, Asahi decides.

“Okay but that ‘Cool’ one is way more annoying,” Koutarou says. “I know ‘Sucker’ got overplayed but that’s because it’s a fucking jam and everyone was so excited they came back.”

“Overplayed, exactly,” Yuuji says. He turns a corner too tightly. Asahi feels mildly nauseous. “I can’t say I like ‘Cool’ that much but it wasn’t the worst.”

“Asahi, help,” Koutarou says.

Yuuji pulls to a halt in front of the coffee shop. Asahi lets go of the handle and stretches out their fingers.

“You’re on your own on this one, Koutarou,” Asahi says. They undo their buckle and slip out onto the ground. “You’ll have to ask Tetsurou.”

“He’s on my side,” Yuuji says. He looks at Asahi. “Good luck in there.”

“I’m not going into war,” Asahi mumbles, but their stomach flips anyway.

Koutarou salutes them. “Give it all you’ve got.”

“Thanks for the ride,” Asahi says. “And thank Tetsurou for covering my shift for me.”

Yuuji waves as he pulls away. Asahi turns to the coffee shop and takes a deep breath. They blame Yuuji, Tetsurou, and Koutarou for making them so nervous about this. 

That’s not fair. They would have been nervous either way.

They breathe in and out one more time before pushing the door open. Their eyes find Daichi and Koushi automatically, in a corner booth on the other side of the cafe. They both stand when they see Asahi enter.

Time slows down. Asahi sees the series of events unfold like they’re outside of their own body, watching themself like they’re just another customer in the cafe. They take a step toward Koushi and Daichi; Koushi runs three steps toward them; an unsuspecting older gentleman turns around and begins to walk toward his chosen table with his iced coffee in hand; Asahi tries to stop themself; Koushi tries to dodge; the elderly man tries to dodge; Asahi reaches their hand out.

All three of them end up covered in coffee.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” Asahi exclaims, just as Koushi says the same.

“I’ll pay for another,” Koushi says.

“And...for dry cleaning your clothes,” Asahi says.

The man takes one look between Koushi and Asahi and laughs, a booming, pleasant thing that catches the attention of everyone who hadn’t already witnessed the scene. “Young love,” he says, waving a hand. “You kids take good care of each other, and we’ll call it even.”

He walks back to the front counter, presumably to order a new drink, and Koushi and Asahi stare at each other. Daichi’s still standing behind Koushi, clearly torn between joining them and causing even more of a scene. Asahi’s focus shifts back to Koushi, their hazel eyes fixed on some part of Asahi’s face. Asahi bites their lip.

“Hi,” they say.

Koushi bridges the gap between them and punches Asahi in the bicep.

“Ow!” Asahi exclaims, rubbing at the spot. They’d managed to hit the same spot Tetsurou hit earlier.

Koushi grabs the front of their jacket and tugs them down into a kiss, coffee stained shirts clinging to each other. The baristas clap, and after a moment Koushi pulls back, a wide smile painted on their face.

“Come on, let’s go get you a boyfriend,” Koushi says, taking Asahi’s hand.

The rest of the shop’s patrons go back to their coffee and conversations as Koushi and Asahi join Daichi at the table. Koushi elbows Asahi into sitting beside Daichi. 

“Um, hi,” Asahi manages, and Koushi dissolves into laughter.

“We covered that,” they say. “Hey, did you know you’re a big idiot?”

“So I’m told,” Asahi says, scratching the back of their head. They turn their head toward Daichi. “So you were Mr. Honeybuns all along.”

“Apparently,” Daichi says. He spares an eye roll in Koushi’s direction.

“It’s not my fault you can’t pick up on heavy-handed hinting,” Koushi says, crossing their arms over their chest.

“You could have just told me.”

“ _ You  _ could have just told  _ me! _ ” 

“So anyway,” Asahi says, interrupting them. “That’s settled, I guess.”

“It’s not,” Koushi says. They sit back. “Because we couldn’t get our shit together, we both came to you.”

“And then both caught feelings for you,” Daichi puts in.

“Which made things more complicated.”

“But we think we’ve worked it out.”

“Have you?” Asahi says faintly.

Daichi takes their hand. “As long as you’ll have us both.”

Koushi reaches over and puts their hand on top of Daichi’s. “We’d both like to date you.”

“And each other.”

“And each other.”

Asahi looks back and forth between the two of them. They take a quick look around the coffeehouse before leaning in and kissing Daichi on the cheek. A blush blooms where their lips touch his skin.

“I think I’d really like that,” they say.

Daichi grins at them, and Koushi grins at both of them, and then they’re scooting out of the booth and offering Asahi a hand.

“Where are you going?” Daichi asks.

“I’m covered in coffee,” Koushi observes, “and so is Asahi. We should really go get out of these clothes.”

There’s a definitive, mischievous glint in their eyes. Asahi swallows hard and thinks they hear Daichi do the same behind them.

“Well,” they say slowly, turning to look at Daichi. “What are we waiting for?”

\---

_ tetsu says worst song is sucker, _ Koutarou texts them. Asahi doesn’t check it until much later.  _ hes so wrong that i now have to marry you hope ull accept me. _

_ Sorry Koutarou, _ Asahi answers. They flinch at the time stamp, and Daichi grumbles and wraps his arms tighter around them. They smile as they send a second text.  _ I think you’ll have to get in line. _

\---

“A good friend of mine asked me to put this next one on tonight, so Koutarou, give the others a hard time for me, if you don’t mind.” Asahi smiles into the microphone. “Up next we’ve got ‘Sucker’ by the Jonas Brothers, and if you’re hearing groaning it’s probably coming from Yuuji and Tetsu. You’re welcome.”

The song starts and Asahi slides their headphones back behind their ears. It’s not thirty seconds before a text comes through from Tetsurou.

_ FUCK YOU ASAHI I THOUGHT YOU WERE ON MY SIDE _

_ Your mistake for thinking I would be on anyone’s side but my own _ , Asahi answers, and then with a grin, adds,  _ or my future husband Koutarou’s. _

They can see the dots indicating that Tetsurou is answering when the phone rings. Asahi sets their phone aside and reaches for the receiver. 

“WCNY radio station, this is Ace Asa, what can I put on for you?”

“ASAHI!” Koushi’s voice is loud through the phone, and Asahi has to hold it away from their ear. “First of all, fuck you.”

“That’s hardly a nice thing to say to a poor radio disc jockey,” Asahi says, delighting in the strife they seem to have caused. “I’m just doing my job over here.”

“Suck it, you big dork.”

“Maybe later if you ask nicely.”

Asahi hears Daichi’s laughter in the background and thinks they must be on speaker.

“Hi, Dai.”

“Hi babe!”

“So did you just call to harrass me or did you actually want to make a request?”

“I did say first of all,” Koushi says. Asahi can hear the sass in their voice, and it curls around their heart comfortably. “So yes, I do want to make a request.”

“And what can I do for you?”

“Put on something that will make me dance. Daichi here is already thirsty and I told him we weren’t doing anything until your shift is over, so now I really want to fuck with him.”

“What?” Daichi shouts.

Asahi laughs. Their partners are ridiculous, and wonderful, and they feel like the happiness in their chest might lift them up off the ground.

“I’ve got you covered, Koushi. My shift is over in—”

“Forty-three minutes,” Koushi interrupts. “We know.”

“Daichi, try to keep them under control until then.”

“You and I both know there’s absolutely no chance of that.”

Asahi giggles. “I have to go, song’s almost over. I’ll see you both soon.”

“Do good!” Koushi shouts. 

Asahi hangs up the receiver and brings the headphones forward over their ears just in time to hear the ending of the previous song. They switch the mic back on and search for their next song.

“I have another request here for you all,” they say, one eye on the screen. They queue up their choice and smile to themself. “I got another call from our old friend Suga. You’ll all be glad to hear they’re doing well, and they’re very happy with Mr. Honeybuns. They wanted a dance song, and I’m happy to oblige. Here’s Billy Joel’s “Why Should I Worry” for Suga.”

The song starts, and Asahi leaves their headphones on. In their head they can see Koushi dancing around, Daichi torn between laughter at their outrageous movements and desire for their body. Eventually he’ll tug them down into his lap, slip his hands under their shirt, and Koushi will scold him for his impatience. Thirty-nine minutes, they’ll say, and Daichi will groan and tip his head back toward the ceiling as Koushi flits around the room. Asahi pictures it as clearly as if they were there, too, and in just over thirty-nine minutes, they will be.

They can’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my team, but extra shoutouts to [ Jordan ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penstrikesmidnight/pseuds/penstrikesmidnight) for betaing, [ Tawnya ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beauxxxtiful_lies/pseuds/Beauxxxtiful_lies) for cheering me on, and [ Cat ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catastra_Fey/pseuds/Catastra_Fey) for cheerleading and getting this idea off the ground in the first place. I can't begin to thank you all enough; this fic wouldn't be here without you.  
> Links to socials in my profile.


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